Ugly Truth - Lucinda Williams

Hide your background, hide your fame

Hide your given middle name

Swallow your pride, swallow your pills

In your house up in the hills

Leave your husband, leave your wife

Keep on runnin' your whole life

Sweep your dirt under the rug

Fix your hurt with a little love

From the cradle to the grave

You will always be a slave

To the quiet darkness of your memories

And that’s the truth my friend

The ugly truth my friend

I’ve got proof my friend

And that’s the truth

Keep your secrets to yourself

Keep your paperbacks up on the shelf

Burn your bridges, burn your friends

Blow them kisses and make amends

Take the high road or take the low

No one but you and God will ever know

And you play rough and win or lose

Either way, you’ll get the blues

From the cradle to the grave

You will always be a slave

To the quiet darkness of your memories

And that’s the truth my friend

The ugly truth my friend

I’ve got proof my friend

And that’s the truth

I’ve got proof, my friend

And that’s the truth